


All Alone

by aSHOOKwriter



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 13:11:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aSHOOKwriter/pseuds/aSHOOKwriter
Summary: Two years after he left. Elio thought he was okay. He wasn't.OrI love Call Me By Your Name and I was inspired on my vacation. Expect sporadic updates. Also this was written on my phone so please excuse my improper grammar and lowercase everything lol.





	All Alone

it had been years. roughly two years five months and 26 days. but not like anyone was counting. he was married now, they received the invitation. my parents went, of course they went. he had been their favorite. school had kept me too busy. i was on break. something about seeing it, them, would’ve killed me. i don’t think i could ever see her. it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. he loved her. he had too. there was no more together. together wasn’t a work i would ever know again. 

two summers came and went, life without him came and went. his replacements were in my room. i was never home. they were trying to take his place, i wouldn’t let them. 

and then he was coming back. there was some big excavation he was going to with my father. he was coming back. to stay in my room. for six weeks. another antagonizing summer. my parents knew, but they loved him. there was no grudge to be had, no blame to be placed. what i had that summer was, for lack of a better word, special. it was the most important summer of my life. but it was still too raw, i couldn’t see him again. i promised myself then i’d find any excuse to leave the house any time he was in it, to come back when he was sure to be gone. never speak to him if i have to see him. it would be like neither of us existed. i went out the the bar the night he was supposed to come to our home. 

i drank minimally. i didn’t want to come home inhibited. i couldn’t. time crawled to a stop. his ‘check-in’ time came and went. i was kicked out of the bar at 2. he must be fast asleep by now. and yet i took my time to get home. i was as quiet as possible. i dragged out every moment. the house didn’t feel different. his presence hadn’t soaked into everything yet. there was still time. 

if i could change time i would. i wouldn’t have drank so much. i wouldn’t have gone to the piano. i wouldn’t have played the bach i played the first day i flirted with him. the bach dedicated to his brother. i would’ve gone to bed. instead he got out of bed. he came downstairs. i could hear his footfalls, i recognized them. i could feel them in my soul. they were still embedded into my heart. 

he turned the corner. he was watching. i didn’t look up. i couldn’t. if i did, who knows what would happen. nothing good. neither of us said anything, there was nothing to say. i felt like a child, wanting after forbidden sweets. he always made me feel so small. 

the bach transformed into something else. a composition of my own making. something sweet and sorrowful. i hoped he knew what i was trying to say. it was a goodbye.

“elio,” he said finally, with great hesitation. i forgot how beautiful his voice was. his rich timber soothed every exposed nerve i had. i stood at last. without the music the silence was insufferable. i was suffocating. 

“good night oliver,” i said moving to pass

him. he blocked my way out. he forced me to look up at him in that motion. 

his eyes were cold, just like in the beginning. i raised a hand to his face. the two years had changed nothing. maybe he wasn’t as tan. he leaned into my hand. 

time stopped, and suddenly i was two years younger. i was exposed and vulnerable. and i hated it. 

how’s your wife? i wasn’t asking. i pushed past him to walk upstairs. i wanted him to run after me. to tell me how much me missed me. to want me. to kiss me. he didn’t. i didn’t hear him come upstairs before i fell asleep. he was there the next morning when i was just waking up. he had gone out for a run. i tried to fall asleep again. i must’ve because them he was on the balcony hovering outside my window. i could feel myself slipping away, it was that summer. all those nights of waiting, wanting. he kept walking. he was going to his spot, watching the ocean. looking back towards his home. 

maybe once his home was with me, but not anymore. never again. tears escaped me, in that room somewhere in italy. a pit settled into my stomach. i looked over to where he would’ve laid. where we would’ve laid forever. where i could’ve laid forever. i forced myself to get up out of the bed and move onto the balcony. my memories of oliver faded out here. his presence wasn’t so suffocating. i could feel myself without him. it was a painful existence. 

i kept wondering what life without him would’ve been like. if i hadn’t ever had the crushing, consuming love that he offered. life seemed dimmer. he would always be the light in my life. even if he couldn’t see it. even if he could never truly be apart of it anymore. i could feel a sense of peace out there, away from here. away from him. feeling fond of the memories but not truly feeling their existence. allow this to be a teaching moment and nothing more. i could be a person shaped by him, but without him. 

and then he stepped out onto the balcony. and i didn’t want that. i never wanted him to become apart of my past. i could never make him just ‘apart’ of my life. he would always consume me. it would never be over. 

he had a cigarette between his teeth, the wind ruffled his shirt and his hand ruffled his hair. we stood side by side like that for awhile. the silence was comforting. we didn’t have to say anything, and yet everything had already been said. 

his pinky crawled over and rested on top of mine. i might have smiled. when i turned to look at him, he had such sadness etched into his face. he seemed so old, so much older than he had before. i had so many words i wanted to say, so much i don’t think i could ever say. in that moment i don’t know if i leaned up or if he leaned down but we met in the middle. 

i forgot how much i loved how he tasted. but i had never kissed him this way, with such a twisted sadness. 

he pulled away first. 

i cant. he said before turning back out. it hurt, he hurt me. i went back to my room. sleep didn’t come easy that night. 

the next morning getting out of bed was so hard. he was so close, so close. just beyond a thin wall he was laying. was he thinking about me? was he thinking about his wife? was he thinking about the kiss? was that truly our goodbye kiss? was this the point i had to move on from, was this my last memory?

i didn’t want it to be. i’d keep this summer away from the other one. they would be two separate events. the summer of love and summer of sadness. 

avoidance would be the best technique. if i couldn’t see him, he couldn’t remind me of that summer and the two would never conjoin in my mind. or in my heart. oliver was rustling in his room. he could take five minutes to get ready or he could take five hours. 

i took a chance and practically sprinted out of my room downstairs. mafalda had already prepared breakfast. his apricot juice was out. i took an egg out to the table by the pool. oliver followed me down shortly. i turned my back. 

i could feel the beginning of that summer. all those days of petty avoidance just to draw his attention. 

i walked away without sparing a glance to my family. or him. i took my bike out to my spot and felt. i don’t even know how i felt. i didn’t bring a book, or my music. 

my thoughts were deafening, they were too loud and suffocating. it was oliver, oliver, oliver, all of the time. i had no reprieve even from myself. 

i ended up just watching the sky. why would oliver never leave, every memory. every piece of me is covered in him. i am him, and he is me. no, not anymore. he took a piece of me, and replaced it with a piece of himself. he threw away the piece of me. 

i want it back, i want to go back to who i was before him. i want him. i want to live a life where we can be happy together. he even tainted my spot with our first kiss. he’s take everything from me. but would i really give it back? after everything we had, after the love we shared. that was the best summer of my life, but i’m supposed to be satisfied with that one summer? he has a wife. they’re married. he could’ve married me. 

no he couldn’t have. what happened that summer has to stay in that summer. i have to break apart from it, i have to become something else. i can allow it to let me grow, but i cannot let it control me. i’ve grown in these two years. i don’t think i could’ve separated these lives if i was the same person as i was when i was with him. i don’t know if this me would’ve let it happen. that summer was he perfect set of circumstances to have created our relationship. and now i have to let it go. there is no us, no we. there is oliver, and there is elio. they are different people, they loved and lived once as the same but not anymore. and never again. 

i went back home. my father and oliver had already left. i went upstairs to my room. to the room that was housing oliver. he left the door open. a book was on the bed. the book i gave him all that time ago. i closed his door and went back downstairs to practice at the piano.

my fingers betrayed me, i played the bach he once loved. maybe he still did, but i could never play it for him again. 

the day passes quickly, in one moment i was at the piano. in another we were seated for dinner. 

mafalda prepared some kind of fish dish. dinner was relatively quiet, i didn’t speak. but the air wasn’t strained. finally it was comfortable. he ruined it. 

“my wife wants to come visit,” he said randomly breaking the silence. my head snapped up involuntarily. 

“lovely,” said my mother staring at me. i looked down at my plate. i pushed the fish around a little before excusing myself. 

he wanted to follow, my father didn’t let him. 

his wife. he has a wife. i knew of course, but to see her? to have her in our house? any hope i had of peace with his situation would crumble into nothingness. i left the house and biked to my spot on the river. 

this time i thought to at least bring my music to transcribe. 

he found me. i wasn’t hiding. we didn’t say anything as he sat. 

“are you okay with it?” i truly didn’t know. perhaps seeing her would give me the shock i needed to move on, or maybe it would turn me to dust. probably the latter. 

“would you be?” i responded. i couldn’t look at him, i wouldn’t. he stayed quiet. 

“bring her, i’m sure she’ll love it.” i didn’t know if he heard me. 

are you sure? he said. he was giving me an out, letting me be comfortable in what was happening. i hesitated.

“of course not. but there’s no reason she can’t come, right?” he didn’t love me anymore, and i was stuck pining over a man who i could never have. it as his turn to hesitate, a split second where he might’ve disagreed with me. or i just read into the situation. 

right. he said lightly, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. i must’ve been reading into it. we’ve been apart 2 years and he already has a wife. not a girlfriend, not a fiancée a wife. a committed forever bond. if i still meant something to him he wouldn’t have married her so soon. 

“then it’s agreed, she’ll be here soon yes?” 

“yes.” he said softly. his emotions were on his face, he looked vulnerable. he looked, for lack of a better word, small. 

i didn’t have anything to say. no speeches.  nothing. for once the words that always tumbled out easily were gone. 

“i remember everything elio,” he said at last looking towards me. i picked at the grass. 

“as do i. as. do. i.” what was he trying to say? that he missed it? that he regretted it? that he wanted to repeat it? i’d given him plenty of chances to repeat it. but he was in fact married. his life, his love was promised to her.  

i’m going to go back, i told him. i made moves to get up and leave but he caught my arm. 

i. he paused. i’m sorry. i was stunned.

you have nothing to be sorry for. at all. as i said it i realized i truly believed it. i loved every moment i got to spend with him, and i didn’t regret a moment of what we did. 

“not for the summer, for getting married too soon,” he said. i finally made eye contact with him. 

“are you saying what i think you’re saying?” i said echoing him from all that time ago. 

“yes.” he pulled me towards him and i fell into his arms and we kissed. 

softly at first, just coming back to each other. and then it built, to a crescendo. i kissed him like a man drinks water when he is dying of thirst. oliver is my life force, he is everything i need. 

neither of us broke the kiss until morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so this isn't that good, and is quite long but. It's what it is.  
> I hope you like it!  
> Leave a kudos/comment if you liked it!


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